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Sector Askellon
<> The Askellon Sector is a mass of systems located in the benighted depths of space of the Segmentum Obscurus, between the infernal Eye of Terror and the cold, xenos haunted Halo Stars. Situated towards the end of a ragged stellar cluster that includes the Calixis, Ixaniad, and Scarus Sectors, it is long past its glorious apex, and few but the mad, the desperate, or the outcast dare travel there. The reasons for this isolation are many, and made all the worse by a curse that has its origins in a time before even the Emperor of Mankind rose to power and reunited the scattered remnants of humanity. As the 41st Millennium draws to a close, Askellon exists as a guttering flame burning alone in the darkness of the void. Once, it was mighty. Its worlds were prosperous and its armies strong, its fleets were far-ranging and ever victorious. From the ranks of its ruling classes rose all manner of heroes, from saints to scholars, mighty lords all. Yet, these great men invariably fell too early, or at the moment of their triumph veered away from the path of the righteous. Some fell to madness, others to hubris, sometimes damning entire worlds to share their sins in the process. Others were lost to ignominy and failure, their names struck from the annals of the Imperium’s great histories for all time. As if to compound its woes, the sector is afflicted with a seemingly unending Warp storm—known as the Pandaemonium— that waxes and wanes across the millennia, but is growing ever more intense and dangerous with each passing generation. Such discharges from the Immaterium touch every region of the galaxy, but most abate in time, and Askellon itself has seen its share of minor storms throughout its history. The Pandaemonium’s multifaceted eruptions, however, seem to exist independently of other storms, more akin to a living creature seeking to devour the entire sector. Already, several of the major Navigator Clans have withdrawn their holdings from the region, allowing lesser houses to grow in dominance. Many Chartist Captains plying the lonely Warp routes in this area of the galaxy prefer to avoid Askellon when possible, and some have marked the area as anathema or refuse to even admit its existence in times when the Pandaemonium waxes in virulent intensity. Yet, Askellon has stood since before the Age of Imperium, and its foundations are sunk far deeper than even its most senior rulers are aware. The oldest worlds in the sector are steeped in power, their cities and infrastructure built layer upon layer over generations beyond counting. The ruling classes have held sway since long before the rise of the Adeptus Terra or even the ascension of the Emperor to the Golden Throne, and they wear their authority like a mantle of invulnerability. From gilded throne rooms atop towering spires, the nobles of Askellon look down upon their realms, certain in the knowledge that they have stood for so long that nothing can possibly cast them down. They nibble upon delicate morsels while pronouncing declarations that needlessly crush millions of lives with futile wars or vainglorious stuff of the Warp itself boils the void away. While the masses yet adore the Emperor, the preachers grow ever more strident in their declarations that He has abandoned Askellon, turning His beatific face away from them, so unbearable are they to look upon. There are many who would agree with this assessment. The astropathic choir-masters of the sector’s lynchpin worlds report that the screaming insanity of the rising Pandaemonium often drowns out the mind-songs from other sectors. Navigator Clans dismay that the light of the Astronomican gutters as the foul storm dilates. Many Rogue Traders still journey through the sector to pillage the untamed reaches surrounding it, or explore the still-hidden mysteries within its own borders, but even the bravest shudder when facing even a tendril of the baleful energies. Ancient legends, long suppressed and burned, hint of terrible events that awakened the Infernal Storm and its role in the damnation of Askellon, but none dare even contemplate such unbearable myths as truth. Perhaps the preachers are correct and the Emperor has abandoned Askellon to its ruinous destiny after all, unless heroes once again come forth to stay this most terrible of fates. El Apócrifo de Askellos Like the origins of the Imperium itself, historical truths surrounding the beginnings of the Askellon Sector have long since devolved over the millennia into myths and legends. Even these tales have become splintered, with many worlds and denominations holding their own unique beliefs. Most of the legends, though, hold certain areas in common, to an extent that most across the sector believe them as uncontested truths. These cherished beliefs on the origins of Askellon help bind the sector together in its continual and unstinting service to the Emperor. Taught on almost every world herein, they show a history older than the Imperium itself, that only became more grand once it united with the Emperor’s divine purpose. It is one of uninterrupted loyalty, faithfulness, and devotion to the Emperor and His subjects, and none would dare whisper otherwise. La Fundación Though the founding of the sector is shrouded with the ashes of history, most of the endlessly copied records indicate it occurred during the ages before the Imperium rose, when humanity seeded itself across the stars. The epic saga Lay of Askellios contains this commonly held recital, though many hold it to be allegory and not a factual accounting. Its most famous copy, a gilded tome many metres tall enshrined in a massive stasis chamber on Juno, relates of a huge fleet arriving after a long, perilous journey to a region of space unmarred by storms. Finding the area peaceful and unsullied, they decided to build a grand civilisation and await other ships to eventually arrive. Stable Warp routes connected a handful of worlds, and the fleet split to settle them. For reasons that many of the tales refuse to codify, one ship refused this scheme and the others turned on it, refusing to allow it to hinder this grand vision. Myths state it was filled with sinners and heretics, and though heavily damaged it managed to get away, never seen again. The settled worlds grew and prospered, though, mastering the space around them into a stable union that managed to weather the terrible Age of Strife. For generations it remained isolated, until the blessed day when the one of the nascent Imperium’s Expeditionary Fleets arrived as part of the Great Crusade. Compliance brought the region, now named Askellon, into the Imperium. Some of the legends of this time consist of nothing but tales of the grand ceremonies that many hold lasted several years and included the unnamed Space Marine Legions accompanying the Imperial fleet. They also relate of scattered worlds attempting to resist the Emperor’s Will, but that they were swiftly crushed. Of them, no more is spoken and none know of their names, though several still-charred planets perhaps give some evidence of their fate. No world living now would ever admit to such unthinkable betrayal in its past, and all are content knowing that none from those planets still live. El despertar del Pandemonium The time of peace was brief, as soon civil war on a scale undreamt of erupted. Many tales speak of how the sector’s people fought valiantly during the dark times when the Imperium was nearly split asunder during the Great Heresy. Though much of the region faced horrific damage and many of its main worlds were reduced to ruin, Askellon, like the Imperium, survived. Almost unnoticed amongst these early days of unification and rebellion were the first recordings of terrible Warp storms raging across the once-peaceful region. Twisted legends began that the storms were growing in appetite, and only abated after they had devoured sufficient ships or worlds to sate themselves temporarily. It was not until millennia later that Argo Kappellax, then Arch-Magos of Cerix-Magnus, established they were not legion but instead a singular storm, rising and falling, though no aerythmatical formulae could fully predict its actions. The name the Navis Nobilite Houses of Askellon cursed it with ages ago, Pandaemonium, soon became commonplace amongst those who ply the Warp routes across the sector and beyond. The Infernal Storm continues to ravage the sector to this day, with periods of relative calm only to be followed with times so tumultuous that interstellar travel and communication become nigh impossible. With each generation it appears to grow stronger, though most assume this is more a reflection of Askellon’s earlier, more golden ages than any true measurements. Some scholars believe that the Pandaemonium is once again growing in fury, this time to a level that reality itself might not withstand the storm surge. Se acerca el Fín de los Tiempos In the ten millennia that have passed since the founding of Askellon, the sector’s fortunes have waxed and waned many times. It has risen to the heights of power and prestige, only to be hurled into the depths of the abyss by the secret hubris of its leaders. Juno, the sector’s pre-eminent world and the seat of its Sector Praefect, has been overrun by alien invasion, torn apart by bloodthirsty rebels, and crushed by wars with neighbouring powers. Askellon’s peoples have been enslaved, butchered, and bombarded from orbit. Each time the sector has rebuilt itself atop the ruins, though never so high nor so proud as before. In current eras, many look back at past ages as golden periods and can only see darker times ahead. Xenos threats are certainly on the rise, from raiders attacking vessels across the sector to entire armies seeking to conquer Imperial worlds. The sector contains the remains of many long dead alien civilisations, and even their ossified artefacts can cause irreparable harm in the wrong hands. There are tales of cults that dare worship the inhuman, befouling human souls with the taint of the alien. Worse still, there are rumours of the resurrection of races thought dead and forgotten, though only the gullible or fanatical give these credence. The Pandaemonium has only added to the sense of doom. For several millennia, Navigators and Chartist Captains have considered the region, ever traitorous and poorly charted, as illaspected and in some manner cursed. Instances of vessels cast violently off course, barely surviving passage or vanishing entirely, are growing. Already, numerous charts state simply “Access Denied,” where before they listed the details of the cursed sector, a warning that some who enter it might never return. Though it is a period of seeming calm, it grows in rage and hunger, but for what none dare say. Its power is limited not only to Warp travel; entire planets have been engulfed or lost behind its storm front, becoming isolated for generations. Doomsayers cry that the storm is drawn towards those worlds with the greatest populations of psykers, or worse might be itself causing the increasing number of these and other mutants. Heretical texts claim it is a manifestation of ancient sins revisited on the living, or the spirit of betrayed souls screaming for vengeance, and is so deeply entrenched within the stones of the sector’s fortresses and the souls of its people that it may never be excised. Though none would openly countenance such beliefs, few Askellians disagree that it holds the sector in a vice that is ever closing. The pervasive sense of coming doom has led many to turn away from their Emperor to other gods, and heresies grow across the sector. Wherever there is darkness they fester, from within the shadows of tall, gleaming spires or the foetid black of buried ruins, though many operate openly behind façades of the respectable or sanctioned. No world or system is safe from the touch of Chaos, and no soul proof against its many temptations. Only through faith in the Emperor, and the actions of His servants, can the sector survive these apocalyptic times. Los Subsectores de Askellon Like most sectors in the Imperium, Askellon is divided into a number of administrative regions called sub-sectors. Each of these smaller regions has its own ruler often called a Sub-Praefect Askelline, an adept of the Priesthood of Terra charged with coordinating interactions between the worlds under his purview. He has no direct power over the planetary commanders of those worlds, except in areas pertaining to the payment of tithes and the culling of psyker populations. The sub-sectors of Askellon are the Stygies Cluster, Cyclopia, the Asphodel Deeps, Thule, and Rubicon, all regions mapped out according to the flow of shipping along the major Warp routes of the sector. Currently, Thule is without a Sub-Praefect, the prior incumbent having been assassinated by a previously unknown psyker cult calling itself the Brothers of Celestial Enlightenment. Mundos de importancia Mundos del Procesional *'Juno' - An Imperial world that is the political seat and capital of the Askellon Sector. Despite its opulence, the notable Hive City Vesuna Regis hides a dark secret, for beneath it lies a horrid undercity where powerful rival gangs of mutants and Underhive scum thrive in the lawless depths, constantly waging brutal and ceaseless warfare upon one another. *'Desoleum' - A notorious Hive World, Desoleum's massive hive cities are home to deadly Fleshcutter gangs. In a hive where oaths are sacrosanct, the harshest penalties in Desoleum are for those who abandon their debts and flee their obligations or worse, attempt to alter their oath-cogs to lessen their service time. First, the Oathless must be found, and specialist Bondhounds within the Sanctionaries track them down. Mundos Nobles *'Snope's World' - Atop the main hab-city on Snope's World lies the glittering Platinal Palace. Formed of fractalised sheets of iridescent metals, it shines like a beacon above the solemn clouds and polluted swamps that cover much of the rest of the planet. It is said that the palace's surface holds a million million angles, each one unique across its conical form. Within are the hive city's ruling families, each as superficially gleaming and beautiful as their dwelling. Here they plot endlessly against each other. Mundos Colmena *'Hulee V' - Hulee V hosts many hive cities with the largest, Hive Krakex, appearing more like a huge mountain than a building. Generations continually build new outer layers that roll off the hive’s outer surface like lava dripping down a massive volcano. Each new layer widens its circumference across the surrounding wastelands and consumes kilometres of land from the ragged millions teeming outside the hive shell. Billions more exist inside, transforming bulk-imported raw ores into the plate armour that protects many of the tanks and fortresses across Askellon. Most never see sky or sun, and cannot imagine a life without enclosed roofing, processed air, and immense crowds omnipresent on all sides. Mundos Santuario *'Ossuar' - Ossuar is a Shrine World located in the Pollom System. A gargantuan mausoleum covers much of its main continent, where several of the blessed saints who helped establish the sector are laid to rest in archeotech stasis chambers. Flocks of attendants work constantly to maintain the chronically entombed state, the idea of the saints becoming exposed to time too horrible to contemplate. Mundos Forja *'Core Theta' - An extreme Forge World, the Magos Biologis of this world continuously work on the edge of tech-heresy; in many cases, concerning the limits of the organic and not the technological. Their primary focus is the constant experimentation upon the rigours of the flesh and the limits of life. *'Rhodin IV' - The Cult of the Machine God has occupied this planet for several thousand years, ever since it was awarded to the Adeptus Mechanicus for its aid in repelling a nearby Ork uprising. Rich in promethium and other useful ores, this once-verdant world has since become layered with plasteel and pollutants. Factories many kilometres tall churn out a wide variety of armaments and munitions. Deep mines weave through the planet’s crust, so invasive that elaborate networks of cyclopean support beams are needed to buttress the immense weight of the manufactorums that cover the surface. Many of the Tech-Priests spend their entire lives underground, feverishly directing legions of servitors to maintain these complex metal webs. Mundos Salvajes *'Gregorn' - Gregorn is a world of violence, where primitives fight each other while struggling to survive against tectonic upheavals and predatory megafauna. The natives favour thick lizard-hides and helms of bone. Their martial societies mask highly nuanced customs, which has led them to butcher more than one expedition to a man for an unknowing insult. Many seem to have an instinctual fear of plasma weaponry, though there are no indications the world ever hosted a developed civilisation. It is possible, however, that volcanic lava and earthquakes long ago eradicated traces of ancient cities. *'Rund' - Another notable Feral World of the sector, Rund has only recently been visited by the Missionary Galaxia, who have begun spreading the Imperial Creed of the Emperor's holy words in a concentrated effort to rekindle the belief of those humans long separated from the True Faith. Mundos Agrícolas *'Novabella' - A relatively unsophisticated Agri-world, Novabella is an isolated but loyal provider for a significant portion of the local sub-sector's foodstuffs. This world has become an Adeptus Ministorum bastion devoted to tending crops and faith alike. From its start, it had been designated to support the Imperial war machine through food, not men, given the relatively low population. Otros lugares *'Echonis Augury' - This ancient void station originally served as a major Adeptus Mechanicus research site. Echonis Augury drifts along the sector's rim and away from regular void traffic. Hundreds of Tech-priests and Servitors worked here to info-scour the surrounding parsecs in a secretive quest. Several centuries ago, a supply vessel arrived to find the station empty and barren. Since then it has become a popular trading post for Rogue Traders and common Imperial merchants alike. Hundreds live on it, with extended generations working to maintain and expand the site, all with occasional concerns over the fate of the previous occupants. Los Mundos Tributarios Other worlds beyond those linked through the Grand Processional wield great power in Askellon’s fate. Systems such as these can have unparalleled influence across the sector, and some even outside of it. Some of these planets claim to date back to Askellon’s founding, others are only several millennia in age, but all are puissant and between them control most of the commerce, industry, and manpower of Askellon. Aventine The world of Aventine is said to have been colonised soon after humans arrived at Askellon, and certainly its history is a long one indeed. While it has never been counted amongst the great powers, Aventine has always been prosperous, yet never as influential as it would wish. This friction had led to many rivalries with nearby worlds in the Thule sub-sector. The surface of Aventine is dominated by countless thousands of high-sided, flat-topped island-mesas, between which flows a shallow sea teeming with oceanic life. Atop the island-mesas are numerous settlements, each connected to the next via gracefully arching bridges decorated with statues depicting numerous saints and other worthies. Most of the islands are somewhat self-sufficient and able to feed themselves from the bountiful surrounding sea. The largest island is host to the palace of Lord Sarawak, Aventine’s governor, as well as the barracks and parade ground of the Aventine Yeomanry, his personal household guard. The Sarawak line stretches back into Askellon’s dim and distant history, but his ancestors were ever denied the status they thought rightfully theirs. They fought alongside armies, led assaults, and prosecuted sieges. Yet always, Aventine’s leaders needed more, and always bemoaned their lesser power compared to Desoleum or Cerix Magnus. Lord Sarawak is a man of great ability and a ruler much beloved by his people. He takes as sacred the oath he swore when he ascended to the throne of Aventine and regards himself as a true and loyal servant of the Emperor. What he does not regard himself as, however, is a loyal servant of Praefectrix Anastasia XX. Having perceived the sector’s decay, and lack of proper responses to threats such as the rising Pandaemonium, he has come to believe that she, and the sector’s rulers on far Juno, are no longer able to properly govern and protect Askellon. Having withdrawn much of his regular contact with Juno, Sarawak has effectively withdrawn his world from the Imperium. He has not formally seceded, for he knows that to do so would be an enormous gamble. Instead, Sarawak has determined that his world is to face whatever may come about alone, maintaining his own personal honour above all else. As far as the people of Aventine are concerned, their master’s virtual secession has gone largely unnoticed. Of late, he has been refocusing their devotion more to him, strengthening his hold on the world. As he readies his world for independence, he has abandoned many of his normal Imperial duties. One such area is that of the psyker cull. On Aventine, an entire island-mesa is set aside for any suspected psykers, its high cliffs topped by a bleak prison feared across the entire world. Of late, the Black Ships have been less regular in arriving at Aventine, and Sarawak has essentially ignored the area. The prison has been left all but unattended. None can say what horrors fester within the storm-wracked walls, for almost subconsciously the populace has moved as far away from it as possible, creating a huge zone empty of natural life. Across the planet, the cull is ignored, a matter that his people hail and has increased their lord’s stance. While few dare report it, though, there are growing instances of seemingly trivial, but unexplained phenomena, from unexpected hoarfrost to bloody clawmarks across walls. All the while, Lord Sarawak broods in his palace surrounded by his loyal counsellors and bodyguards. He has yet to realise that his pride and determination to avert the doom of the entire sector is in fact serving to hasten his own world’s death. How soon Aventine might have before the breaches burst open and the unstoppable tide of the Warp vomits forth remains to be seen, but it cannot be overlong. Cel Cel is one of the many agri-worlds that feed Askellon, but it is one of the most renowned for the succulent meat it provides to the wealthy across the sector. Over long millennia, a pyramidal system has come into being that provides much, though not all, of the sector’s needs, with different tiers of agri-worlds in an interstellar food chain and Cel at the top. At the lowest tier of the sector’s agri-worlds are over two dozen planets set aside for the production of crude plankton-like life. Artificial seas of slime cover the surfaces of each world. When the bloom reaches the height of its life cycle, it is siphoned off into huge fermentation tanks of unimaginable size. Crane-like structures rearing dozens of kilometres into the upper atmosphere pump the processed contents of these vats to waiting tanker vessels, before the contents are shipped to the second tier of agri-worlds. The second tier consists of planets given over to the production of a variety of primitive flora. The material shipped in from the first tier agri-worlds is sprayed across continent-wide fields, where it serves as feed to fuel the growth of these crops. Many of these agriworlds are populated by Ratlings, a diminutive class of abhuman known for their skilful fieldcraft as well as their bucolic indolence. When harvested, the second tier crops are shipped out to feed the third tier, half a dozen planets on which millions-strong herds of grazer beasts are raised for the sole purpose of providing food for the planet at the apex of the pyramid, Cel itself. The surface of Cel is one endless, bone-strewn plain across which wander beasts the size of Warlord Titans known as Mhoxen. These creatures are believed to have been created by Askellon’s founders using technologies long lost to Mankind, and they represent the most bountiful source of protein in the entire sector. Mountains of blubber with enormous, teeth-ringed mouths, Mhoxen are fed on entire herds of the transported grazer beasts. When they achieve their full size, roughly two thousand tonnes, the Mhoxen are herded for slaughter. Squadrons of armoured walkers armed with electro-prod lances drive the gigantic beasts towards the grinder-gates of the yawning meat processing plants situated across the world’s surface. Their meat is rendered into a wide variety of forms, then shipped off to all corners of the sector. Mhoxen flesh is highly prized for its supremely delectable flavour, a taste so exquisite it borders on addictive. It is said that wars have been fought at the rumour of a shortage, but fortunately such a situation has never befallen the sector. It would take the disruption of several entire planets to interfere with the process significantly. Should that happen, however, the entire pyramid could crumple, and billions of souls would starve or be reduced to cannibalism simply to survive. Cerix Magnus Askellon is host to many forge worlds of the Adeptus Mechanicus, the greatest of which is Cerix Magnus. It exists in the Mechanicum’s own empire that coexists within the sector. Despite this, Cerix, and to a lesser extent its sister forge worlds Selvanus Binary and Core Theta, are as reliant on the sector as it is on them, for without raw materials from elsewhere, the forges would sputter and grow cold. Cerix Magnus must have been settled soon after Askellon’s founding, for it has been populated by the servants of the Machine God or their predecessors for as long as any record states. The world’s ancient history is largely unknown outside of its own datarepositories, and the masters of Cerix Magnus refuse outsiders access to their archives. It is assumed that the world was host to some engineer caste even before the scions of Mars rose as a power during the earliest days of the Imperium. With the arrival of the Imperial Expeditionary Fleets and the Mechanicum, though, it and its sister worlds were readily transformed to the control of the Machine Cult. Fragmentary records hint at an unnamed treachery during this period, but areas of the three forge worlds’ archives have been deliberately sealed or even destroyed, and the truth may never be known. Echoes of this terrible occurrence, whispered as the Brass Scouring, still ring across the millennia, however. Throughout the Age of Imperium, Cerix Magnus has led the forge worlds of Askellon, entering into a number of reciprocal arrangements with other factions including several nearby Knight worlds. In return for the supply of weapons and other advanced materiel they manufacture, the numerous other worlds serve what needs it cannot meet itself. These range from raw natural resources vital to manufacturing, to Knights and other forces in times of armed conflict, to a supply of sinners to be converted into the many servitors each forge relies upon for its many tasks. Outsiders are not welcome upon Cerix Magnus, nor indeed any Adeptus Mechanicus holding in the sector, but those who do have cause to visit the world report that it is hostile to most forms of non-augmented life. The atmosphere is thin, providing scant protection from the baleful radiation cast upon it by the system’s bloated star, Cerix Tyrannus. So massive and bright is this star that Cerix Magnus is thought to have had its orbit altered at some point in the distant past in order to survive the periodic storms emanating from its photosphere. The planet’s surface is cast in ghostly blue light by its star, which despite its great distance looms threateningly in the polluted sky. No oceans exist, and the world’s mountain ranges have long since been hollowed out to form the core of its factory-hives. The highest point on the surface is Assembly Zero-One-Zero, a mountain hive rearing almost twenty kilometres into the atmosphere, its interior plunging so deep into the crust it is thought to penetrate the mantle below. Assembly Zero-One-Zero is the seat of the ruling council of Cerix Magnus —the Quorum Primus—a body that has absolute power over every servant of the Omnissiah on the planet, and that has nominal command over Selvanus Binary, Core Theta, and the many lesser forge worlds across the sector. Cerix Magnus produces a massive range of weapons and other advanced materiel, but over the millennia has established itself in a number of specialised areas. It is perhaps best known for superior technologies that rely on exotic field effects. These range from plasma containment systems to personal field projectors, but at the more rarefied extremes include teleportation devices and Gellar Field systems based on venerated, ancient templates. In addition to its primary function as a centre of advanced manufacturing, Cerix Magnus sometimes serves as a layover point for Adeptus Mechanicus Explorator Fleets that roam the sector and beyond in search of archaeotech and other treasures. Recent centuries have seen such stopovers grow ever more perilous as the Pandaemonium becomes steadily more severe. Several binaric legends on Cerix Magnus cant that during the mythical Scouring, an entire forge world vanished from record, along with a blessed Adeptus Titanicus force. Many Tech-Priest Questors are certain that somewhere, buried in the devastated wastes of a lost world, lies an entire legion of the most formidable war machines ever to walk the battlefields of Mankind’s wars. Should these Titans be discovered, the sector would surely tremble beneath their metallic feet. Laran 9k The Laran system is vital to the defence of the entire Askellon Sector, for it serves as mustering ground, depot, and bulwark for the sector’s many ground based defence forces. When Imperial Guard regiments are raised in the sector, they invariably gather at Laran 9k, where they are provided with any equipment and supplies their own world was unable to furnish. The continent spanning grounds of Laran 9k have seen use countless times over the millennia as regiments have gathered there from across the sector, entire army groups parading before the most highly ranked of marshals. A triumphal arch, tall enough to accommodate an Imperator Titan striding beneath it, stands in the centre of a sprawling city of barracks, stores, and bunkers. It is traditional for newly-raised regiments to pass beneath the triumphal arch before boarding the troop ships beyond, the name of each regiment etched into the stone that it might be remembered for all time. Laran 9k is not ruled by an Planetary Governor, but by a Lord Lieutenant of the Departmento Munitorum. This was for many generations a position of great honour, often conferred on a respected war leader past his prime but still of value. The last incumbent, Lord Lieutenant General Vazkho, has been declared too old and infirm to fulfil his duties and his nominated successor, General Ryken Dow III, is believed to have been lost in transit. Without a duly appointed commander, the planet’s authorities have appointed a council to rule in his stead until such time as segmentum high command sees fit to dispatch another replacement. This Council of Proxy has become mired in internecine squabbles and bureaucratic rivalry, and the world’s defences have fallen into a state of desperate unpreparedness. The hundreds of thousands of staff officers and menials that maintain the stores and training grounds now spend their time maintaining their own personal fiefdoms, all traces of cooperation slowly ebbing away. Those areas of the surface not host to the sprawling mustering facilities are set aside for weapons training of every possible variation. An entire continent is dedicated to armoured manoeuvres, and it is not just the tank commanders who are able to train there using live ammunition. Army groups consisting of dozens of armoured regiments with aerial support have taken part in exercises of unimaginable scale. Thousands of vehicles have swept across the blasted, crater-strewn landscape, the skies black with the smoke of their engines. The last of these exercises, carried out two decades ago, escalated to an actual war as rival generals vied for supremacy. The resulting battle raged for three months before a Munitorum delegation could broker a cessation, though by that point very little of either army remained. Both generals would have normally been executed for such gross misconduct, but both had powerful allies reaching back to Terra itself. They were instead each granted a Warrant of Trade, so that they could continue their personal vendetta elsewhere. Laran 9k is one of Askellon’s strategically vital systems as the central coordination point for most of its military forces. What none on the planet realise is that deep beneath its surface is a strategic command bunker, constructed millennia ago at the order of segmentum high command. Knowledge of this reserve asset is limited to the planet’s Lord Lieutenant, and with this individual struck down by infirmity, its existence is now a lost secret. The Council members snipe and plot against each other, setting off flares of combat, unaware that stocks of cyclonic munitions are stored in a cavernous chamber scant kilometres beneath the northern pole. The power source maintaining that chamber’s stasis field is slowly failing, and when it does, the mad scramble for control over the bunker could tear the planet apart. Puerto Áquila Port Aquila is not a single world, but a belt of asteroids orbiting the star Diomedea Stella. The largest of the rocks are almost planets in their own right, and many host a wide range of shipyards, docks, and storage facilities. Many smaller asteroids are also inhabited, forming the private fiefdoms of numerous trading concerns, Chartist Captains, shipwrights, and others. While many of these groups compete against one another, they are surprisingly adept at cooperating for the mutual benefit of all. It is common for the different bodies to ally with one another in the defence of Port Aquila, but their cooperation goes much further than selfpreservation. When acting in concert, this Greater Askellon Trade Combine has interests in markets across the length and breadth of the sector, and has of late cast its acquisitive eyes still farther afield. While Port Aquila has existed for many centuries, it has not always been the centre of commerce it is today. In earlier times, when grand Terminus ruled commerce across Askellon, the system served as a den of pirates, slavers, and renegades. Some claim that the stain of recidivism still lurks, and that any who settle there soon succumb to sin and damnation. Certainly, even the many outwardly respectable trade concerns that have sprung up in recent decades are especially brutal in their dealings with those outside of the Combine, employing mercenaries and assassins at whim. Newly-minted merchant princelings along the belt adorn their strongholds with crude grandeur in an effort to emulate how they imagine the palaces of the great houses of Terminus might have appeared in ages past. They amass signifiers of their imagined status, quaff rare amasec vintages, and hunt xenos species to extinction, all to prove their newfound pedigree. Many of Askellon’s noble houses, especially those claiming descent from the original settlers, regard the commerce-lords of Port Aquila with undisguised disgust. They refuse to deal with them openly, though with the decline of the great houses of Terminus, they increasingly have little choice but to do so. It is now said that the majority of vessels plying the trade routes within the sector do so under the flag of the Combine, the power of Port Aquila insinuating itself into ever more markets. Other factions, including the House of Roth, have insinuated themselves into the Combine, joining the numerous princelings who have enjoyed a meteoric rise to wealth and power thanks to membership. Amongst these are several secret pleasure sects and xenos-worshipping cults, as well as a great many individuals willing to use such groups to grow unfathomably wealthy. The latter use their new connections to gain access to the Faceless Trade in smuggled alien artefacts, selling on what they can to those members of the nobility with illicit and unconventional tastes. Puerto Lokhart The Imperial Navy maintains several facilities in the sector, collectively referred to as the Askellon Station Command. The most important of these is Port Lokhart, strategically located to provide its vessels with ready access to a number of Warp routes leading towards the nearby Scarus Sector, as well as away into the unknown reaches beyond the sector’s trailing borders. It is unusual in that it occupies a far older orbital structure discovered long ago in the sector’s distant past. The port takes the form of an artificial ring, apparently wrought from some unknown material by the hands of unidentified, but undoubtedly alien, masons. The ring encircles a small, jewel-like planetoid in the Pallisada system, itself the source of much debate amongst the Adeptus Mechanicus. Port Lokhart was established at some point during the first millennia of the Age of Imperium. The archives relating to this period are incomplete at best, but they appear to suggest that the Imperial Navy wrested the system from the control of local forces who opposed segmentum high command establishing a presence in the Askellon Sector. Whatever the truth, the Navy has occupied the alien construct for almost nine thousand years, the structure now studded with countless thousands of weapons turrets, docking arms, observation blisters, and similar, man-made components. The interior of the enormous ring is divided into a honeycomb-like structure, an internal arrangement that has been altered, expanded, and rebuilt over the ages by the capital shipwrights of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Despite millennia of occupation, the Navy has only ever imposed its presence on a fraction of the interior, leaving countless thousands of chambers unexplored. Though an impressive facility, Port Lokhart is well past its prime. At its height, it functioned as the base of operations for a formidable number of vessels, from squadrons of destroyers to mighty battleships. Over the last few centuries, it has decayed as naval forces have been diverted to more pressing wars in the Segmentum Obscurus. Only a number of second line and reserve vessels remain, leaving the protection of an entire sector and surroundings to a woefully understrength force. As pirates and foul xenos raiders have grown even bolder, Port Lockhart has become pressed to counter these threats with the limited resources available. The personnel stationed there are aware of their status. Many of its officers come from other sectors, often as punishment. Invariably, they have sufficient family connections to avoid more severe, perhaps even lethal censure, but have committed some sin so dire that some form of punishment nonetheless had to be imposed. These range from strutting martinets to borderline madmen. Some insist on exercising the full range of command responsibility, while others are only concerned that the mess room silverware is kept polished to an impossibly high standard. Their crews know only that they face ever more pressing dangers, both from the Pandaemonium and enemy vessels, and hope to make it back to the port after each deployment. The Surena Rogue Trader Dynasty has been known to work alongside the forces of Port Lokhart, both offering assistance to its beleaguered fleets with its own powerful voidships and, from time to time, calling for aid in driving off xenos raiders, pirates, and other Rogue Traders that threaten its nearby interests. Though this alliance is at times tenuous, Port Lokhart’s increasing reliance upon the Surena Dynasty means that many of its officers cannot refuse the house’s calls to war. Terminus Prime Terminus is often the first developed system a vessel travelling to Askellon encounters, and is a prosperous centre of trade. The system is host to half a dozen settled worlds, ranging from Terminus Prime, a densely-settled planet home to numerous mercantile concerns, to Terminus Exo, a paradisiacal world given over to the leisure of the most privileged scions of those same trading houses. These worlds are protected by a sizeable system defence fleet, as well as superbly trained and equipped planetary armies, all paid for by the combined profits of the great houses. The numerous factions of Terminus, from Rogue Trader dynasties to Navigator Clans, have all gained their staggering wealth by investing in a range of trade and exploitation endeavours, both within the sector and without. For countless centuries they have dominated the internal markets, in particular those relating to the supply of produce from the sector’s agri-worlds to its hive worlds. When Warp conditions have allowed it, these great houses have invested heavily in trans-sector shipping, holding significant interests in many Chartist Captains’ fleets plying these lonely routes. At other times, the great houses have backed Rogue Traders seeking to penetrate the largely uncharted voids beyond the sector’s trailing borders, though these endeavours have become increasingly risky in recent decades. Terminus Prime is a world of gleaming oceans and low, rolling grasslands, many of the latter turned over to the production of an amasec varietal popular amongst the sector’s aristocracy. Its population is spread out between several hundred cities and countless smaller settlements, each the exclusive preserve of one of the great houses. In times long past, it is said that the cities made war upon one another, but did so in a highly ritualised manner according to a massive canon of law. In recent centuries, however, the cities’ rulers fight according to no law but their own, for the golden age of prosperity is long gone, never to return. While outwardly all is well, behind the faded curtains is hidden treachery. Millennia of riches has led to stagnation, and where in the past Terminus daringly backed many ventures of high risk, which often resulted in higher rewards, it now refrains from any but assured prospects. Meanwhile, the aggressive Greater Askellon Trade Combine of Port Aquila has become more powerful and dominates many trade routes and markets. Many Terminus trading houses are now empty shells, their treasure chambers draining away in foppish pursuits. With so much of the planet’s wealth seeped away, a great many of its cities have slid into stately dilapidation. Delicate bridges have collapsed into once pristine canals, and the copper domes of the great palaces are now tarnished and weathered. The houses have begun turning on each other, none risking outright war but eagerly sponsoring poisonings, assassinations, and other less violent means to control what little they can. Many of the gilded cities are ruled over not by the head of a great house, but by whatever lesser relation is left alive after the latest attack. Despite the decline of the great houses, the Ursa Navigator Clan maintains a significant presence, as do several Rogue Traders, including the ancient Anzaforr Dynasty. However, the ebbing of the power of the mercantile interests has allowed others—including the Surena Dynasty, the hated enemies of Anzaforr—the opportunity to prosper. In the wake of their last, devastating war that wracked the sector many years ago, both dynasties have entered a truce of penance, as each repays Juno for its sins. Still, the peace is uneasy, and their balance of power shifts daily as Aristide Anzaforr garners favour with the Ecclesiarchy and Banu Surena’s daring exploits strengthen her ties with Port Lokhart. From the sidelines, the Ursa Clan watches carefully, exploiting the opportunities that both dynasties create while skirting open hostility with either. Thaur Thaur is a planetary mausoleum, a shrine world dedicated not only to the veneration of the living Emperor of Man, but of the countless nobility and saints who have passed away over the long millennia. Much of the world’s surface is dominated by endless leagues of low, rolling hills swathed in dense woodlands. It is within the dark shadows beneath the endless canopy that the elite of the aristocracy of Askellon rests its dead. Only the very wealthiest are buried here in the conventional sense, the bones of the less highly ranked used to adorn or even comprise the opulent tombs of their betters—the fate to which many pilgrims aspire. The shrouded forest floor is in effect one single necropolis formed by many millions of crypts, graves, and shrines, all connected via kilometres of wide walkways filled with shuffling pilgrims. Some edifices are so old that the writing carved into the stone is unreadable, the faces of the mourning statues blank and expressionless following centuries of weathering. Many structures are cracked open or sinking into the ground and covered by a dense layer of moss and ivy. The tombs vary in size from individual grave stones to enormous, cathedral-like structures that burst upwards through the canopy to tower above the forests. Entire avenues are formed by kilometre after kilometre of tall statues depicting weeping saints and angelic guardians, some so new the marble gleams in the sunlight filtered down through the trees, others missing limbs or having merged with the trunks of trees. The dead are not the only occupants of Thaur, for the graves, tombs, and shrines must be tended lest they waste away entirely, and new ones must be constructed to accommodate the endless supply of remains. These and similar tasks are carried out by a population known as the Eulogus Askelline, an entire society living in the midst of the dead and entirely devoted to their care. The Eulogus is divided into a bewildering array of classes—at the very bottom are those tasked with scouring the moss and ivy from the oldest of graves, while at the very top are the Vestals, who maintain vigil over the tombs of the senior dead, weeping constantly in quiet devotion as they spend their entire lives in this sacred task. There are also shrine-masons who construct everything from the smallest grave marker to the tallest bell tower, adorning their works with the bones of those not entitled to a full burial. Others tend to the countless eternal flames mounted upon many of the tombs, while more still are responsible for controlling the hordes of vermin inevitably attracted by the presence of so many preserved human bodies. Servitors, however, are not used on Thaur to care for the dead or their remains, even for the most mundane tasks, for such creatures are entirely unable to shed tears. The most senior member of the Eulogus is the impossibly ancient Lord of the Wake, Jeronius Pyre. As Lord of the Wake, Pyre is also the Imperial Commander of Thaur, though he cares little for this role and leaves most of the associated tasks to his numerous underlings. His main duties revolve around the performance of the most important services of remembrance, whether for newly-interred nobles or for those who died many centuries ago. Each day sees Lord Pyre performing a service, some attended by crowds of mourning offworlders, others by no more than a cluster of weeping Vestals. The Lord of the Wake does not discriminate between the age of the deceased, investing a eulogy to a general dead for five thousand years with the same weight and dignity as a merchant prince only just placed in the ground. While on the surface, the population of Thaur might appear to rank amongst the most dedicated adherents of the Imperial Creed, this is far from the truth. The Eulogus Askelline is riven by factionalism, and the Lord of the Wake only attains his position by adding numerous rivals to the graves they formerly attended. These groups also maintain competing beliefs. Some hold that when a senior member of the nobility dies, selected members of his family and household should be put to death as well in order to attend him at the side of the Emperor. Others hold that life is fleeting and largely meaningless, encouraging entire bloodlines to march into the crypts and sacrifice themselves in the hope of a better afterlife. A small number seek to delve further into the soil than human graves descend, led by tall, cloaked figures and seeking out older things said to slumber deep in the clammy soil. It is said they sometimes recover some dread, nameless relic of the things long dead, which they venerate as if it were the holiest of icons in stark disregard for the Imperial Creed. Equally chilling are shadowed cults that have desecrated the graves in worship of decay and the Ruinous Power that embodies it. How long these cults have been operating amongst the Eulogus is unknown, as is the true extent of their influence. Whatever the truth, it seems likely that the forces stirring them on are growing stronger as the Pandaemonium rises across the sector. Vanth On the death world of Vanth, the primary danger comes from the plant life that makes up its trackless jungles and swamps. Almost the entire surface is one enormous, foetid mire from which rise the roots of mangrove-like trees several hundred metres tall. So ancient are the pilings of these trees that they have become interwoven over the millennia, growing together to form a web of bridges across which many arboreal creatures travel over the swamp below. While the enormous trees of Vanth are host to a bewildering array of animal life, the true threat to exploration resides in the viscous swamps. The dark waters are host to some manner of creature or creatures preying upon anything passing over the root bridges, striking up out of the water with one or more coiling, tentacle-like vines. Having ensnared its prey, the organism drags it down into the swamp. Some xenos savants have suggested that the swamps are themselves a single planet-sized digestion system, a theory that is regarded with derision and horror in equal measure. Ordinarily, there would be little reason to travel to Vanth. However, it was discovered several centuries ago that its swamps produce several rare and highly unusual gasses known to have utility in a number of very valuable medical procedures. Most of these relate to juvenat procedures, used by those with sufficient wealth or power to reverse the effects of ageing and greatly extend the span of their years. When Vanth’s priceless natural resource was discovered, the eyes of some of the most highly placed interests in the sector and far beyond it were turned upon the world. The operation to extract the juvenat gasses has always been plagued by misfortune, for there is no way of doing so without drawing the attentions of the threats that lurk beneath the swamps. Countless different methods have been attempted, and while most have met with a measure of success, none have done so without a hefty bill. At present, the most successful operation belongs to a shadowy cartel made up of several noble houses. It pays a huge stipend to the House of Roth, the Rogue Trader dynasty that first discovered the presence of the gas, though not the world itself. The cartel has found considerable success in mining the gasses using a large processing platform held aloft above the swamps. Anti-grav generators procured for the purpose, at staggering expense, support the huge machinery, the trees themselves too fragile to support such weight. A siphon is piloted into position by a crew stationed inside an armoured capsule, and when a pocket of gas is located, as much is pumped off as possible before the swamp’s tentacles can mass sufficiently to tear the whole apparatus apart. Even this most successful of methods has cost the lives of many hundreds, however, for should the siphon remain on station for too long, the swamp tentacles mass with such effect that the rig itself is threatened with being pulled from the sky and dragged into the swamp. It takes scores of heavily armed mercenaries to keep the tentacles at bay long enough for the siphon crew to mine enough gas to make the attempt successful, but casualties of over two-thirds are common. So far, the effort has been profitable, to the backers at least. Fuentes Extraído y traducido en parte de Wikihammer 40K UK. *''Dark Heresy: Core Rulebook - Second Edition'' (Juego de Rol). *''Dark Heresy: Beta Core Rulebook'' (2ª Edición) (Juego de Rol). Categoría:Segmentum Obscurus Categoría:Artículos para traducir